I’m sitting here crying with my broken heart. Who will love me in this world if you don’t. Who will take care of me when I’m old. And who will I take care of. The pain hurts so much. This knife in my aeorta. I can’t shake this one off. I can’t brush it away. It hurts too bad, the wound is too deep. It’s an excruciating feeling and I fear it will never go away. Your distance, your love placed somewhere else. Where am I to go, who can I see, what can I do to ease this pain, to stop my tears. There is nowhere, no one, nothing I can do. But endure. And suffer. And wish I could cut my heart out because what good is it all torn and tattered anyway. I wish the end were here so I didn’t have to live in this world without you. Without your love. Without your caring or your touch. My love, my friend, my life.